


The Distance in Stars

by hulklinging



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Astral Projection, I feel like that's not actually funny but I'm putting it as a tag anyway, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Post-Season 2, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 08:35:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9539957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hulklinging/pseuds/hulklinging
Summary: Matt lets himself believe Shiro is okay. Through the prison, and his rescue, and everything afterwards.And then the dreams start.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I hyperfocused and now it's four am and this thing is way longer than I meant it to be.
> 
> Hello Voltron fandom, it's my first time writing for you, I hope you like it!

For one breathless half hour, Matt lets himself believe that it's Shiro who's saving him.

He's pulled out of his cell by masked rescuers, follows them in a daze, his brain repeating _Shiro Shiro Shiro_ until it echoes in his bones.

They'd heard of the Champion, of course, and Matt didn't think it was too much of a fever dream for him to hope that the 'strange, unknown alien' was his pilot. When stories of the Champion had gone silent, again Matt had chosen to ignore that all the signs pointed to his friend being dead. Instead, he had chosen to believe that he had escaped, that he'd come for him sooner or later. He knew it was fantasy, but the whispered stories he started telling himself in the makeshift prison infirmary, the day Shiro had saved him, had become a mantra that kept him going, that kept him moving when his weakened limbs threatened to quit on him in the work camps, that had inspired him to try to escape the first time, building a radio out of scraps and broadcasting his sos as far as it could reach, that kept his head up when he was caught and tossed into solitary for his efforts.

But he stares at his rescuers, listens to them talk in an alien language, their movements inhuman, and he feels his breath go ragged, grief he's been sidestepping since that last day on Kerberos finally catching him up to him.

Ghosts can't perform a rescue, and Shiro was just that. A ghost.

And Matt, curled in on himself, staring at the stars for the first time since they'd been captured, feels haunted.

He keeps moving forward. He offers the rebels what skills he has, thinks back to him and his sister building cool toys out of scraps and programming, and he does alright. With every item he manages to repair or improve, he tells himself it's one step closer to home. At first he keeps his head down, but he is a scientist at heart, always dreamed of getting to space, and here he is, surrounded by more alien races than he ever could have dreamed of seeing. He makes friends, almost in spite of himself, and always makes sure to ask any newcomers if they'd heard of Earth, or of humans. They never have, which Matt tries to remind himself is a good thing, because that means Zarkon's eye has not turned towards Earth, that the Galra were content with the three they had grabbed on the moon.

He tries not to think about his father, or Shiro. But when he is asleep, the ghosts come to stay.

At first it was just the same nightmares that had plagued him in the prison, in the camp. Shiro screaming for blood, a sharp pain in his knee. Some nights, the dream doesn't end with them getting pulled apart, a whisper still ringing in Matt's ears. Some nights Shiro doesn't stop with one swing of the blade, and Matt wakes up gasping for air, checking his body for horrific wounds that his mind still thinks should be there. Some nights he's forced to watch Shiro in the arena, watch him get torn apart instead. Other nights it's just him in the emptiness of space, searching and searching until his voice gives out, and not finding anything at all.

He blames the change on his flying lessons. Vash'a, one of rebels he'd grown closest to, insists he learn how to fly, and so he gets into one of their less valuable ships (a salvaged escape pod from a ship that had long since been turned into stardust) and watches as she expertly navigates them out into open space before she gets up and shoves him into the seat.

"Nothing for you to hit, out here." She combs through his hair with her claw-like fingers, a comforting gesture for her kind. "Let's see what you've got, human."

He should make a witty comment. It's what Vash'a expects. But he can't help but feel Shiro more than ever, sitting in the pilot seat, staring out at the stars.

He's better than he expected to be. Nowhere close to Shiro, but he doesn't crash, not even when learning how to land, so that's something. And his dreams shift and change, less and less of the nightmares that mascerade as memories and more and more of that empty space, of trying and failing to find his missing teammate every night and waking up cold and shivering.

Then, the night after his first totally solo jaunt, he shouts Shiro's name and Shiro appears.

"Shiro?" He whispers, suddenly worried that any noise will blow him away.

Shiro twists and flickers, like a bad connection, like when you blink in a dream and your mind skips. He meets Matt's eyes, and there's a sadness in his gaze that makes Matt ache. Before Matt can think to say anything else, Shiro's gone again.

He wakes himself up with his own struggle to breathe and has to repeat that to himself to remind him. Shiro's gone Shiro's gone Shiro's gone. He has to do it, or else he'll never be rid of his best friend's ghost.

"You're not real," he tells the ghost of Shiro, a week later. This dream has swiftly become his only one, but now that he consistently finds Shiro he can't bring himself to mind. "You're dead."

"I learned a long time ago not to argue with you about anything that seems too big to be real," Shiro replies, and Matt takes a moment to try to decipher what he means. "So you must be right. Anyway, a ghost would know when someone else is dead, right?"

"No," Matt says. "No, I'm alive."

But Shiro misses this, he's gone again, and Matt closes his eyes and hopes he'll wake up soon, because this place is only bearable when he's not alone here.

"I wish you could have seen us," Shiro says, a smile that Matt's not sure he recognizes on his lips. It's one full of pride, one that reminds Matt of his father, watching as him and his sister work their way through a problem. "We were... We were pretty awesome, for a while there. It's like... You're so powerful, but you're also so in balance with four other people."

Matt is only half-paying attention, more caught up in how Shiro looks more real than he usually does here, drinking in all the details he dared forget. Then Shiro says a name he recognizes, and he's jolted from his staring.

"What?"

"Yeah, did I not tell you? Your sister was there too."

"Where was she? What do you mean?"

Shiro looks over his shoulder with a frown. "I have to go."

"No, wait." It's his dream, he should be able to keep Shiro here. "Takashi, _wait_."

He's gone again, and the name Pidge is echoing in this empty space, Katie's old nickname, one he gave her when she was barely four, insisting she was a pigeon, waiting to grow wings. He hasn't heard that in years. How did Shiro...?

Vash'a looks at him with concern, and Matt has no words to explain away the circles under his eyes or how he's started to shake a little, now. He wants to sleep more than ever, because his heart aches every time he closes his eyes and sees Shiro there, but it seems like the more he sleeps the less rested he feels, which is just not fair.

"Where do you go all the time?"

Matt looks up at Shiro. They're resting, no talk of sisters or death tonight, just Matt's head on Shiro's stomach as they make up their own constellations out of the unfamiliar stars around them. There's something uncomfortable in Matt's stomach, a feeling he's been avoiding, ever since he started having these dreams, something he maybe should have told Shiro when he had the chance but he's only now finding the words for.

"What are you talking about?"

Shiro shrugs, and Matt feels the gesture rather than sees it. It makes him shiver, how real everything is here. He feels like he could close his eyes and drift off, which is strange because he's already sleeping, so he holds onto Shiro's voice as a way to keep himself aware.

"I look for you but can only find you half the time."

Matt frowns. "This is just a dream, Shiro. You're not even real. Please don't get meta on me, I'm too tired."

There's something in Shiro's voice, a little like panic, or maybe fear. "No, you're the dream, Matt. Or you're dead like me."

Matt sits up, turns to look at Shiro, at his shock of white hair and his scar, details he had to have superimposed over his memories of the man, filling in the gaps of their months and months apart.

"Takashi," he says, hoping Shiro's first name will have the same affect on the dream version as it used to on the real thing. "I go away because I wake up. And this is my dream."

Shiro is shaking his head, his hand reaching out to push a wayward bit of hair out of Matt's face.

"That's not right," he mutters, more to himself than to Matt. "I don't... I don't feel like a dream. I remember..."

Matt wants so badly to lean into the touch. He shouldn't. It's not fair, feels like taking advantage, even here in his own mind. He resists, just barely. "What do you remember, Takashi?"

"Dying," Shiro whispers, and then he fuzzes away again, and Matt wakes up with tears on his cheeks.

"Fuck this," he says to himself, in his tiny little room. "Fuck this."

He promises himself he's going to stop dreaming like this, but when he closes his eyes, there Shiro is, and he is full of relief.

"I missed you," Shiro admits, and Matt returns the sentiment with only a moment of hesitation. This makes Shiro grin, and Matt will do anything to be able to keep seeing that smile, even walk through his days barely awake, even feel empty when he wakes up.

They don't talk about death, or his sister, or anything like that. They talk about shows they used to watch instead, making up endings until the alarm jolts Matt awake, all of a sudden.

The base must be under attack.

It's a lone ship, a Galra ship doing some off the record exploring and pillaging, if Matt had to hazard a guess. And it was lucky enough to stumble upon a whole moon of rebels, and somehow that led to Matt in his battered little escape pod, using the bigger fighter ships as a distraction to board the enemy ship, what passed for an alien memory stick in hand (this particular one looked like a seed, organic in origin, and all he had to do was hack into the main network and then set it down and it would do the rest, and how cool was that?). The ship is in enough chaos that no one notices him until he's already at a computer station, some secondary command office that had been abandoned when he'd come across it. He has time to duck behind the desk as a drone opens fire, and then it's a blur of laser fire and explosions, Matt's communicator on his wrist shrill with Vash'a's warning that the ship is going to run or fall in the next few minutes, _get out of there now Holt_. The three drones fall, but they leave him with an arm that feels like it's on fire. He grabs the seed, hoping it got at least some useful info, and limps back to where he left his own escape, the old leg wound slowing him down even further as it starts to ache.

He makes it back into the pod and detaches from the Galra ship just as the vibrations of much louder explosions reach them, and then he's drifting in space and desperately trying to hold onto consciousness.

"Matt?"

"'Kashi," he murmurs, smiling through the pain.

Shiro rushes to his side, one hand warm and the other cold as he gets Matt into a sitting position. "What happened, why are you-"

Matt doesn't want to waste this time with explanations. This is his last chance, his dying fever dream, and the feeling inside him wants a moment to shine. So he holds a bloody finger to Shiro's lips, leans in and replaces his finger with his lips.

And this is how he knows it's his dream.

Because Shiro kisses back.

When he pulls away, there's real fear in Shiro's eyes.

"Matt," he says, and he's talking too loud, but they just kissed so Matt doesn't mind. "Matt, you said you're dreaming."

Matt thinks he manages a nod. Shiro really is so pretty, the scars and the new arm only making him look older and more than a little badass, not that Matt's about to admit that out loud.

"So what's happening now? Why are you hurt?"

"M'dying, I guess."

"No!" Shiro shouts, and it's making Matt's ears ring. "No, you can't do that, you have to wake up, okay Matt? You've got to wake up, right now!"

Matt never wants to disappoint Shiro, but it looks like he has to, this time.

"Bye, 'Kashi," he manages to get out. "Love you."

The last thing he remembers seeing is Takashi Shirogane's horrified face.

* * *

He wakes up in the rebel camp's infirmary, hooked up to a lot of beeping machines that he thinks are telling everyone he's still alive. He spares a moment to look at them gratefully, and then the pain registers, and he lets out a whine of pain.

Vash'a, curled up in a chair by the edge of his bed, opens one of her eyes at the noise, and then the other two follow suit, all widening in excitement.

"Matt! You're alive!"

"Apparently." He wanted it to be defiant, or maybe carefully casual, but it just comes out muffled as he grits his teeth. Vash'a makes a clicking noise and grabs a glowing square from a pile by the bed. She puts it on his shoulder, and immediately the pain dulls to tolerable levels. He sighs in relief.

Vash'a fills him in on the information he managed to gather, and how the rebels had taken the ship and its fighters down before they could even realize how serious the fight was. It had been three days (he'd been out for _three days_ ) and no more Galra had shown up, which means they hadn't had a chance to send off a distress signal.

"How did you do it?" Vash'a asks, finally.

"Do what?"

"Pull off that landing. You were unconscious by the time we reached you."

The last thing he could remember was passing out on the floor of his pod. There was no way he had made any kind of landing, but Vash'a insists he did. His best yet, even.

It's something he's still puzzling over, when Vash'a finally leaves and the lights go out. The inkling of a theory is growing in his mind, but... He needs to know more.

He closes his eyes and let's himself dream.

"I thought you were dead!"

Shiro is pacing in front of Matt, his flesh hand holding his arm protectively, right where flesh become metal.

"The other night? Or the whole time?"

Shiro's form gets a little less solid, like he's going in and out of focus.

"Both? I... I died, Matt! I remember dying! And I saw you here, and it made sense. And I should have been more upset, but I was selfish. I was just so excited to see you again." The unspoken bit of that, Shiro's fear of being alone, does not go unnoticed by Matt. "And then you show up and you're bleeding to death in front of me, and I just..."

"Did you pilot my ship?"

Shiro looks at him, really looks at him, and the confusion and loss on his face makes Matt's heart hurt. "I think I did."

"Okay." Matt reaches out, pulls Shiro to sit next to him. He doesn't let go of Shiro's hand, and Shiro doesn't pull away. Matt focuses on where their fingers are tangled together, how he can feel the other man's warmth in his palm. "Okay. Shiro... I want you to tell me everything."

And he does. He talks about Eath, about Voltron, about Zarkon. He talks about that last minute, of the Black Lion's cry. About his own death.

"I'm going to kick Katie's ass," he says, afterwards. "And yours. And everyone's."

"Before, I would have said I'd like to see you try," Shiro says, voice so soft. "But a lot's changed, hasn't it?"

Matt doesn't think _that_  much has changed. Especially if what Shiro says is true, and his sister has gone and become a saviour of the universe. Still, he hums in agreement. "Yeah, Takashi. A lot's changed."

But maybe not as much as they think.

"I want to get in touch with Voltron," Matt says, and Vash'a turns to look at him, shocked. "No, I need to get in touch with Voltron."

"Matt, I don't think-" she cuts herself off, the click she adds to the end of his name even more pronounced. "We've all heard the rumours, but we're not even sure that they're real."

"They're real," Matt says, and he must look sure enough for Vash'a to take him seriously, because by the end of the day he's having the same conversation with the commander of the rebels.

"The best we can do is send out a distress signal," Siyr's saying. "There's enough of those that the Galra shouldn't even notice another one. But the chances of it reaching Voltron, if they even exist..."

Someone barges into the room, and Siyr turns to tell them off, but the messenger is shaking, their cheeks the bright purple blush that is their species' way of crying.

"We just intercepted a transmission! Zarkon was defeated by Voltron! He's gone!"

It's like some backwards kind of mourning, Matt thinks. Disbelief is first, but as more and more reports come in, the acceptance of this as a fact, the ground shattering statement that _Zarkon was defeated_ , the base becomes alight with excitement and joy. The battle is not over, not by a longshot, but Zarkon, the living embodiment of the immortality of the Galra Empire, has fallen. That's something.

Matt tells Shiro that night, opts for the easier to talk about good news, and watches as some of the tension drains from his body.

"Did they say anything about Voltron?"

Matt shakes his head. "Only that Voltron was the one that defeated them."

He wants to kiss Shiro again, still giddy with the news, but knowing that this is much more than a dream holds him back.

"There's something else," Matt admits, once he's relayed everything he does know about Zarkon's defeat. "Takashi, I don't think you're dead."

Shiro flinches, and then stands up from where he'd been sitting with Matt, putting some distance between them. "Matt, don't. Please."

"Wait, just hear me out." Shiro won't look at him, but he also doesn't leave. He does look less tangible than he should, almost see through, but Matt has to keep going, he can't help it. "You piloted me to safety, the other day. And Vash'a says that I should have bled out. You put pressure on my wound."

"Matt."

"No, listen. You being dead doesn't make sense."

Shiro finally does turn, but it's only to offer him a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "I thought you believed in ghosts."

"I did. But I also believe in the facts. And I believe in _you_." Matt blushes. That's more of a confession than he meant to give. "I think you're stuck. I don't know how, or why, but... You mentioned fighting Zarkon before, right? And the Black Lion taking you to its planet, without ever leaving?"

Shiro frowns. "I'm not in the Black Lion just waiting to wake up this time."

"That's not what I'm saying!" Matt tugs at his own hair, trying to find the right words. "I just think... Maybe you should stop thinking of yourself as dead and try something else instead."

Shiro laughs. It's as fake as his smile. "I can't just think my way out of being dead, Matt."

"Maybe not." Matt takes a chance and kills the distance between them, taking Shiro's face between his hands. "But you can at least entertain the thought that you might never have been dead at all." He can see Shiro starting to argue, and with a burst of confidence he butts in. "For your teammates. For me."

Shiro stares at him, and then flickers out of sight entirely.

Matt doesn't see him the next night, or the night after. By night three after they talk, he's back to the old nightmares, Shiro getting ripped apart by monsters, him bleeding out in empty space. He wakes up furious with himself, with staring a gift horse in the mouth, for investing so much in something so unlikely. He hadn't had proof, just a handful of wishes and... And coincidences. Nothing concrete, and now he'd gone and lost something much more important. Stupid stupid stupid, here lies the folly of fucking man, a billion miles from Earth and still he can't escape it, this stupid curiosity and need to test theories and need to be /right/ ruining everything, as per usual.

When he snaps at Vash'a for the third time in as many days, she throws up her arms in a mix between utter exasperation and a cultural middle finger.

"If you wish to act like a little t'agrash, I won't stop you," she snaps back at him. "Let me know when you're ready to act like a person again."

He brings her dinner as an apology, and she loftily tells him he's lucky her kind doesn't hold grudges, and invites him to eat with her.

Things don't go back to normal, because even before his dreams took a turn for the too-real, he hadn't really had a normal. But they go back to something he can handle on a day to day basis, and if he's a little more distracted or a little quicker to anger, well, Vash'a lets all but the worst of it slide. They're kept busy, which helps. With news of Zarkon's defeat and whole planets now in open rebellion, they are working to mobilize. Matt buries himself in work and does his best to just not... Think. As best as he can manage it.

Four months after the defeat of Zarkon, they're helping some locals on a planet that Matt doesn't have enough teeth to pronounce the name of, when a hole opens in the sky. Matt's on the ground for this fight, his little ship set up as a grounded communications hub, but he sees it plain as day. He tries to send out a mayday to the rebels and locals that are in the air, when he sees that something is coming out of the hole. A ship, a large and beautiful ship, definitely not Galra in design. He stares, watches as the hole closes neatly behind the ship, and feels a spark in his gut. It's like he's finally totally awake, after months of sleepwalking. How can he let himself be caught up in dreams, when the universe around him is so awe-inspiring?

The beeping sound of a hale comes in, and he twists back to accept the message. A humanoid figure appears on his screen, sporting a rather ridiculous moustache and a smile. Matt hits the appropriate keys to patch in Siyr and the rest of the rebel command, makes sure his own camera is still off and the universal translator is on, and tunes into what the alien is saying.

Something about how well they've done here, and hope they don't mind the intrusion. Matt listens for Siyr's reply, but gets nothing from them, which is strange.

Then he looks out the window again and understands the sudden silence.

There are five giant robot lions in the sky, bright colours making them easily identifiable as they easily take out the last of the Galra fleet. Matt's eyes flicker between the Green Lion (did it just shoot roots?) and the Black Lion, in the thick of the battle, strong and sure and very, very real.

He watches them for a few minutes, and then he tears himself away from the aerial battle. He can't do what he wants to do, which is run closer, because he'd throw himself into the middle of the ground fighting, and that's not where he needs to be. He can't let himself be distracted again, not here and now.

He does take a moment to pinch himself, though. Just to make sure.

Matt forgoes caution and turns his camera on, and the surprise on the alien's face is enough for him to hope.

"Your support is always welcome, Voltron," he says, trying to keep his voice level. "Please communicate to your paladins these important locations." He rattles off the locations of the Galra strongholds, the areas to be careful of because there's a town or a hidden base of their own, and really he should be more careful, but he's just watched these guys take down half a Galra airforce on their own. He's pretty sure they're all on the same side."

"Thank you, kind stranger!" Matt wonders if this guy's voice is always this loud and upbeat, or if it's a heat of the battle thing. "May I ask who I have the pleasure of speaking to?"

"I'm playing the role of communications officer for the resistance, today." He swallows, throat suddenly dry. "Matt Holt, at your service."

There's a gasp from the other end, and another voice, higher and full of excitement. He doesn't catch what she's saying, because Siyr has gotten over her own shock about their new allies and is shouting information down the line about ground troop movements. He moves to pass on that information to those that need it, but spares a last glance at the camera.

"I'm in a converted escape pod." He gives his location. "If... If after the fight's over, someone needs to find me." Then he cuts the communication short, and gets back to work.

With the help of their new friends, the fight is wrapped up in a matter of hours. Matt is still coordinating moving of the wounded when there is a knock on the door of his ship.

He stands, and gives the command for the door to open. The tangled ball of excitement and hope and fear that he squashed down in the name of the cause is back now, so big and painful he might just choke on it.

The door opens, and there's a a blur of white and green. His weak leg buckles under the attack, and he falls back onto the floor, arms full of a sobbing little sister.

He takes one look at her face, eyes exaggerated by a pair of his own glasses, and then there's two crying Holts in the small space.

"You're alive you're alive you're alive," Katie keeps saying, like she won't believe it until she's repeated it enough times for it to mean something. "Shiro said he thought he remembered you but he wasn't sure, and we didn't know how much of what he saw when he was gone was real and how much was weird astral plane stuff, and oh my god Matt..." And then she was sobbing again, and he was rubbing her back like when they were kids, still thrown because she looks so much like him, she looks more like the Matt Holt people knew than he did, at this point.

After an unmeasurable time of them just clinging together, apologies for forgotten wrongs and a short but painful conversation about how neither of them had found Dad yet, his brain catches onto something Katie had said when she came in.

"Shiro...?" He asks, almost too afraid to.

Katie looks up at him, then back at the door, where Takashi Shirogane is standing, whole and real and present, no dreamy haze between them. Katie stands up and then helps pull him to his feet, and then he's moving, and so is Shiro, and he has his arms around the taller man and there's no mistaking it this time, this is real, they're really both here and still breathing and then Matt has to pinch himself again. This earns him a teasing elbow from Katie, which turns into a three way hug as Matt and Shiro both pull her back into their arms.

Matt could stay like this forever, but there's running footsteps and a loud voice cuts through the moment, and then two more join them and they're pulling apart so that Katie can introduce their friends, and Matt is hugged by strangers who look at him with wonder and excitement that knocks him off balance. Then Katie is tugging his arm, wanting him to meet her lion, and the others are all talking over each other, bickering made easy by the double victory they won today - they helped save a world and reunited a family, after all. They have every right to be proud.

Throughout it all, Shiro doesn't say much, but his presence is a warm wall on Matt's weaker side, supporting without really touching. Matt looks up at him, at the scar that now has depth, at all the details that were lost in fake starlight.

He wonders how much Shiro remembers of their shared dreams, or whatever they were, in the end.

That night, as the rebels, locals, and paladins all celebrate together, Matt finds himself on the outskirts of one of the bonfires, taking a moment to breath. Katie had promised she'd return within a few minutes, and Matt felt the same way she did, like if they stayed out of sight for too long they'd go back to where they were before, a thousand worlds apart. Still, he's not upset that he has a few moments to himself to just... Breathe. Take it all in.

There's a lot to take in.

"Is this seat taken?"

Takashi has found him again, quoting his own words from all those years ago, when they were both new to the Garrison, alone and looking for a friend.

Matt makes a bit of a show of moving over, and is rewarded with Shiro's smile.

They sit in comfortable silence for a while, pressed closer than is really necessary, but neither of them moves. Matt is trying to find the words to say, desperately trying to think of how to ask 'do you remember saving me, do you remember me saying I loved you, do you remember the kiss, do you remember how I made you leave, do you remember' without so many words.

"How much do you...?" He starts, but can't finish.

"I remember you saving me," Shiro says softly, and in the light of the blue flames he looks a little too similar to the boy in the dream. "And I remember this."

Shiro leans over and kisses him, and every worry about this not being real flees Matt's mind. Because this kiss is so much more than their last, and it sends his head spinning.

When he finally pulls away, they're both red, and Matt's hand has found Shiro's. He wants to say how long he's been wanting to do that, he wants to say a lot of things, but they have tomorrow to talk more, and the day after, and the day after that. They can learn real constellations now, and talk without one of them disappearing.

"You saved me too, you know." Matt settles on. "Every night, you saved me."

And maybe Shiro doesn't look like he quite believes it, but that's okay. Matt has all the time in the universe to convince him.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [here](http://hulklinging.tumblr.com) on tumblr if you wanna hang out. Also, doing a [fic giveaway](http://hulklinging.tumblr.com/post/156456690078/ziggys-follower-milestone-fic-giveaway), if that's your thing at all!


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